blood in the sand
by deadpan riot
Summary: The temple beyond Aurora is little more than legend to most, a ghost story. It's on a whim that Reaver drags Sparrow out into the sands without thought to the monsters lurking beneath, and it's the whims of the monsters that may be the end of them both
1. Chapter 1

a/n: inspired by the short "**memento**" I did for **eclectic creme. **So, same Sparrow, FYI.

**chapter 1: Into the Realm of the Sun**

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><p>Barely midmorning, and already the world was on fire. The air shimmered and danced as it pleased, occasionally teased by a breeze that had the inhabitants of this most desolate of places wrapped around its metaphysical finger. The sands so fine and smooth were awash in a stain of blood, burnt permanently into the landscape through the ages that became invisible once night fell. When that happened, when the sun fell below the horizon and all was covered in rich layers of seeming velvet, the desert became another beast entirely.<p>

But night had yet to fall, and the day had barely begun. Looking ahead by looking back, it was going to be a long, sweat-soaked day indeed.

"Bloody hell Reaver, I think I'm going to melt!"

Said pirate sighed, squinting over at the whining Hero riding beside him. "Do stop complaining Sparrow, unless you're trying to add to the hot air supply."

"Ha, ha, ha." The gypsy rolled his eyes and switched the giant plumed hand fan he'd 'acquired' from one hand to the other. "You know, I don't know how these whatchamacallems don't roast where they stand, covered in fur and carrying our sorry arses across a bleeding desert."

"They're called camels, for the twentieth time, and as I've already explained to you, they're acclimated to this climate. And before you mention horses, again, those are not."

Sparrow patted his camel, whom he'd christened Clark because it was the closest thing to the beast's real name he could pronounce. "I'm quite over horses, aren't I Clark? Yes I am! You're my new favorite mode of transportation! Horses can't spit at people you don't like, can they? No they can't!"

"Are you going to keep this up much longer? Because if you are, I may just have to bid your dear Clark an early departure."

"Aw, is the sun making you cranky Reaver?"

"Oh good heavens no! After all, that's what the ridiculous outfits are for!" He flapped a baggy sleeve in Sparrow's general direction. Granted, the loose fabrics did breathe much better than anything he would have chosen to wear, but that didn't mean he had to be civil about it in the slightest.

"Soooooo, yes, yes it is….Are we there yet?"

"Does it look like it?" He gestured grandly to the area around them, jagged cliff walls still towering above them signaling they had yet to hit the desert proper.

Sparrow groaned, momentarily falling forward to lay face down against Clark's shaggy neck. "lkandf jgalkdnghi?"

"Scarlet."

"Wha?" The gypsy had turned his face just enough to unobstruct his mouth hole.

"The answer to whatever it was you just asked me."

"Scarlet?"

"Yes."

The Hero was quiet, obviously running through all the possibilities in his head, until finally: "You didn't actually hear what I asked, did you."

"Oh I heard it. Understood it, however, I did not."

Sparrow grunted, still propped listlessly against poor Clark. "I asked if you're sure about this."

"If I wasn't do you really think I would be out here?"

The gypsy shrugged. "I dunno. I've seen you do weirder things on a whim you didn't particularly care about. And those things didn't require dragging me out into the middle of nowhere to sweat my bleeding arse off."

"You didn't have to come you know."

"Ri-ght. Just like I didn't _have _to cook that dog you accidently shot-"

"That doesn't count."

"You practically shoved your gun up my nose and demanded it!"

"I wasn't going to shoot you-"

"Just because you were too drunk to remember how to work a gun doesn't mean you wouldn't have tried!"

"Did I? Try, that is, to shoot you?"

"Weell no-"

"Exactly. You didn't _have _to do anything."

"Unless I didn't value my life, which you 'saved' from the monster that also happened to be some hobo's pet. That we then ate, because you were hungry but didn't want to eat 'foreign beggar slop' as you called it."

He chuckled. "And good times were had by all."

Sparrow clicked his tongue. "Good times for all, cept the dog. And now us who are riding out into the middle of a bleedin' desert because of some stupid bar rumor-"

"I'll have you know I cross checked my sources carefully-"

"You sound like Hammer, you know that right? S'how she used to get her information, get smashed at some bar and talk up the local drunks."

Reaver inwardly shuddered at the comparison, yet unfortunately had to roll with it to prove his own point of rightness. "Yes, but look at the good she managed to acquire for you? After all if I recall the story correctly, that's how she came across moi, is it not?"

"Yea, but remember that time not long after we met that I was fully intent on murdering you?"

"Oh yes, and I remember how unjust it was as well-"

"You tricked me into sacrificing my youth and beauty for you to those creepy blokes."

"Yes, but you got better, even before you made it back to my manor, if I recall."

"Besides the point!"

"Not at all 'besides the point' love."

"It's besides the point of us going out to die in the desert because some guy told you about a temple that may or may not exist dedicated to a being that 'far surpasses us in intellect and power'. Just because you're a greedy, gullible bastard doesn't mean you have to drag me along too."

Reaver pretended to pout. "But who else would I share the spoils of my adventures with? Garth is boring, Hammer is an annoying prude, and all of my wonderful minions are either dead or off hiding from my impending wrath."

"Bloody freakin' hell Reaver, we better find something damned good or I'm going to have to start hanging out with Hammer again."

"But why on earth would you want to?"

"I used to hang out with her all the time you know."

"Yes, and I forgive you for that, you didn't know any better."

Sparrow chuckled. "You're such a wanker, y'know?"

"No, I don't believe I do. However, I do know that we've finally made it to the desert proper."

Sparrow pulled himself back into a sitting position in order to take in their surroundings. "Wow. That, is a lot of sand…."

And truly it was, as far as either of them could see there was nothing but sparkling sand dunes, textured in ripples that reminded Reaver of the finest silks set out for show at the bazaar in Aurora.

"If we hurry, we can make the temple before the night is out." As the words left his lips he kicked his mount into a trot, not only cutting off anything snarky Sparrow might have had to say, but punctuating his words nicely as well.

"Oi! Wait up git!"

Within minutes Sparrow had managed to race Clark up to Reaver's side, the two of them breaking out into laughter as their mounts flew gracefully down the side of the dune they'd crested. The wind whipping their clothes and hair felt marvelous, making it much easier to ignore the grit hitting against their exposed bits.

"Hey Reaver!" Sparrow's voice rose easily above the sound of rushing wind and hoof beats. "What do you think the odds are, of being able to find a Sandgoose?"

_The sun rose with the grace and dignity of a prince, the sands bowing and quivering beneath its silent gaze. At midday, when the blazing ruler of the sky was as distant as it was overpowering, all beings retreated from its presence to take shelter beneath the sands. All save for the riders and their mounts traversing the heart of the unclaimed jewel. Breezy linens stained with sweat and crusted with errant sand hanging heavy and limp in the still air, for no breeze dared contend against the Sun and its hold over the kingdom. Man and beast alike choking on stale, viscous air as their skin wept precious fluids into the greedy waste floor. Each in their own way counting the seconds until that greatest of tormentors fell below the horizon. And thus, as is the way of things, it did._

"What the hell is wrong with this place? It's freezing! It shouldn't be this cold at night, it should be just marginally less balls hot then it was during the day when my skin was melting off! It makes no sense and I don't like it!"

"Do calm down Sparrow, or I'll be forced to cut you open and use your carcass for warmth."

Although it was quite dark, the moon being as thin as it was, Reaver was almost positive Sparrow was giving him a dirty look.

"That's disgusting, why would you do that? _How _would you do that? _Why _would you even _think _of something like that-"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you've never heard the story of the man who survived a winter's night after falling in a river by killing, cutting open, and sleeping inside of his horse."

"No, though I can't imagine why. Sounds like something Theresa would have told me before telling me to go to bed before she ties me to a chair and gags me."

"Such a loving relationship the two of you had."

Sparrow bobbed his head absently, trying to balance himself on his mount while curling into the smallest ball of a person possible. "Still don't see why we can't stop and light a fire…"

"The same reason we didn't stop earlier to frolic in the oasis you were convinced existed."

"It doesn't really exist? Because that's a poor excuse Reaver. Pretty sure fire exists."

"I was going for because it might attract unwanted attention."

"Right, well in that case, you think I could fit myself in my bag of endless stuff? " He held up the small, unassuming pouch he'd had as long as Reaver had known him. "I've stuffed more than my weight of things in here before-"

"Perhaps if you can cut yourself up into small enough pieces to fit through the opening."

Sparrow stretched the opening of the pouch thoughtfully. "You know, I never thought of that. What if I got something that was too wide, what then? Obviously Theresa did not think that through when she made this thing with her ninja magic."

Reaver shook his head. Sparrow had, as of late, been of the mind that Theresa was somehow a magician, but only when he wasn't around to see it. Thus, there was no way anyone could disprove his theory. Just as no one could _really_ disprove his theory that Theresa had invented Spam _just _to torture him as a boy.

Sparrow slumped forward with a grunt, wrapping his arms around Clark's neck and burying his face in the fur there.

"If you should happen to veer off course, I should warn you that I will not, in fact, warn you of such an occurrence."

Sparrow's response was to give the pirate a thumbs up, while at the same time offering over the reins of his steed.

Reaver promptly swatted his hand with the decorative riding crop that had come with the camel.

In his haste to snatch his hand back, the Hero pulled on the reins, Clark responding obediently by veering toward Reaver and his mount.

"Would you pay attention to what you're doing?" Reaver directed his camel to prance out of Clark's way.

"Never ever."

"Of _course_. Forgive me your _majesty_."

Laughing, Sparrow whipped himself back into a normal sitting position, now grinning down his nose at a bemused Reaver. "Non-sense, my vessel. I am a _loving _and _benevolent _king, who showers wealth upon his peoples-"the gypsy gestured regally with his arm. "And _fire _upon his enemies." Here, he sent a flash of fire to dance momentarily above their heads. "So that in death, at least they may be warm."

Reaver mock-bowed. "All hail the mighty Gypsy King and his prowess of making sure every bandit with a pair of eyes within twenty miles knows of our location."

"Thank you, thank you!" Sparrow waved to an imaginary crowd, a wolfish grin on his face. "And all regale his mighty gunman, who will shoot out said bandits' eyes before they get within twenty feet of us!"

"You would hope so, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. It's not just my arse I'm endangering with pyrotechnics because I'm bored. I always involve someone else. Out of love, naturally."

"Naturally. On the up side, I do believe that dark blob is our destination." Reaver pointed toward the starless mass of black rising from the horizon. He'd only just realized it was there, well hidden in the dark as it was.

Sparrow stood in his stirrups to get a better look. "Well that doesn't look foreboding at aaaaaaall."

"Where would the fun be if it didn't?"

"Haven't the foggiest. I seem to keep getting roped into going to creepy-ass places by people who like to watch me get jumped by monsters. Don't know what I'd do with myself if I went somewhere unhazardess."

"I would imagine you would make it hazardous for anyone else who happened to be there at the same time. If you recall the incident in Oakfield the other night?" They had found themselves stuck waiting around at the Temple of Light in the middle of the night. Sparrow, bored, had climbed onto the wall of the courtyard and promptly pretended to be a gremlin, scaring the piss out of more than a handful of monks and plebeians alike.

"Don't recall what you're trying to insinuate good sire, and I shant have you slandering me name."

"Oh you don't need my help for that." He chuckled as Sparrow huffed, although Reaver was quite certain the gypsy was hiding a smirk behind his hood.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, the closer the temple got the heavier the air seemed to become. Reaver could feel it tightening around them, the endless, open sky narrowing down to something far too close for his liking. Even the wind tasted different, perceptible too to the animals escorting them over the sands, tossing their heads and grumbling, the sound barely audible but felt well enough as it rumbled through shaggy chests.

"Was it supposed to be this big and creepy?" Sparrow's voice was oddly subdued, the atmosphere of the place not lost on him.

"Considering the place is a ghost tale of sorts, I imagine so yes. You're not _scared,_ are you 'Hero'?"

The gypsy made a derisive noise. "Course not."

"Good. Then there's no point in waiting for morning to venture inside."

"Course not, because that would be the sane thing to do. But nooo, lets venture inside the probably booby-trapped and monster filled desert tomb in the middle of the night while it's pitch black! I've never regretted that one before."

Reaver dismounted, tying his camel to a forlorn pillar off to the side of the decrepit temple entrance. "When was the last time you found yourself in an ancient desert temple?"

Sparrow followed suit. "Never, but Hammer dragged me through the Howling Halls, in the dark. Thanks to bandits and some whiny guy I got to trudge through the Hobbe Caves out in Rookridge, in the dark. _You_ sent me to that decrepit court in Wraithmarsh, which is dark regardless of time of day. Shall I go on?"

"No, that's quite all right. You've bored me enough already."

"Hardy har har."

The entrance way was littered with piles of sand and more than a few animal carcasses. Beyond the threshold of stone lay a darkened hall that had no visible end. The shadowed bodies of rubble could just be made out, the scent of time laced with decay tickling their noses.

"After you, Mon Capitan."


	2. Chapter 2

**chapter 2: in the chill of the tomb**

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><p>The stone floor swallowed the sound of their footsteps, covered in sand and dust as it was. Long ago it may have proudly echoed the path of all those who journeyed across it but now no longer. The fires that once lit the halls gone, the ornate and painstakingly beautiful pillars and alcoves crumbling and broken, their remains littering the chipped stone walk. Peeling paint visible beneath layers of dust and wayward sand, trapped now forever from the dunes beneath the sky.<p>

Sparrow pulled his cloak closer about himself, suddenly wishing for his usual clothes. "Is it just me or did it drop another twenty degrees?"

Reaver grunted. "Complaining isn't going to make it warmer, you know." He fiddled with the torch he'd been attempting to light for a few moments longer before giving up and holding it out toward his combustible friend. "If you'd be so kind…"

A snap of his fingers and the torch flared merrily into life, seeming far too cheerful for the nastiness of the space around them.

"Ah, much better. Wouldn't want you walking off the edge of a chasm now would we?" He smirked at his companion over the crackling flames, air shimmering with heat and altering his perception, slightly.

Sparrow gave him a flat stare, singular eyebrow ever so slowly rising. Reaver cocked a brow in return, about to make a snarky comment involving whatever happened to come tumbling out of his mouth when he found himself startled into silence by the gypsy snatching the torch from his grasp. The flame sparked and flared in complaint as its holding was swiftly switched between Sparrow's hands, leaving that side of Reaver feeling particularly chilly.

"What is it now, oh great Master of the-"

"Reaver, why are we here?"

"I told you, the locals-"

"Yea yea, I know, this is the spooky temple the locals are afraid of because it kills people, or something. I meant, why are we wandering through it? I feel like murderous brick work is something to be avoided." The last bit was as sarcastic as it was pointed.

He made an indistinct noise, reaching out and pulling Sparrow companionably to his side, partially because he knew a placated Sparrow was far easier to deal with than a put-upon Sparrow, and partially because he was cold and Sparrow gave off heat like an industrial furnace. Some odd hero-thing, apparently, that he wasn't privy to.

"Come now love, don't tell me the great Hero of Bowerstone is afraid of a little old whatever this place was?"

The gypsy snorted. "Course not. I just don't see what you could possibly hope to find. Looting dead bodies isn't as lucrative as some seem to think, and I can't imagine anyone coming all the way out here to die having anything good in their pockets."

He decided not to ask about Sparrow's knowledge of corpse plundering. "Oh you'd be surprised at the things one finds simply by looking."

"You would know…" Sparrow muttered under his breath.

"Hm? What was that, love?" He glanced sideways, taking note of the smothered grin and darting eyes. Clearly, Sparrow was searching for a change of subject to keep himself from a smack upside the head. Not a cruel one, mind. Their violence was born of love, as Hammer had so eloquently put it, born in the flames of war and the boredom that had come after. Or something like that, he hadn't really been listening.

"Have you noticed the markings?" The gypsy tipped the torch toward the wall.

He glanced at the smattering of peculiar symbols and squiggles. "Eh, yes and no. I imagine it's a lot of foreign flourish, no real relevance to us."

Sparrow stopped, forcing Reaver to stop as well. The man was impossibly sturdy when he wanted to be. "Maybe, but do you notice anything…odd about some of it?"

With a sigh, Reaver leant against the hero to get a better look at what the light of the torch was illuminating. "Besides that it looks as though a 6 foot toddler chose to write his memoirs on the wall of a deserted temple remembered only in terror stories?"

Sparrow held the torch closer to the wall. The line of text directly above the flame gleaming as though wet, much like fresh ink was want to do just after drying.

"It's all gibberish Sparrow, that's probably been here for-hang on…" He glanced at the lines of text again, taking note of the way it all jumbled atop itself, lines so faded they were barely legible, covered by newer versus. And only some of the elaborate swirly lines looked stark and wet in contrast to the eroding stone and faded décor.

"A month? Unlike that older stuff you can barely read and only when you squint and tilt your head to the side."

Reaver plucked the torch from Sparrow's grasp, moving to hold it right against the wall, catching cobwebs on fire as he did so. He passed his fingertips over the ink, rubbing them absently together when they came away clean. No dust film meant less than a month.

"I get the feeling you and I aren't the first people to come chasing a ghost story all the way out here." Sparrow's voice had dropped all hints of the snark and wit it usually bore now-a-days, making him suddenly wary of being jumped by Spire Guards, their absence of existence not-withstanding.

"I think you may actually be right, my dear notice-ere of inane things." He stepped back, holding the torch up to better illuminate more of their surroundings. All along the walls he could see the sheen of newly spilt ink, obvious now that he was looking for it. "I think it would be best if we continued on."

Sparrow snorted softly. "Probably even better if we left, but then I suppose that way we would be less likely to be chased by some ungodly beast bent on using us as incubators for its children."

He looked over at the gypsy, face quiet serious. "I'm not sure which is more disturbing, the scenario you just described, or the fact you thought of it at all."

The slim smile was barely noticeable, but bolstered his confidence quite a bit. He bowed slightly and swept his arm across his chest, toward the way in which they were heading. "After you, oh great conqueror of strange and rather perverse wilderness I pray I shall never have to come upon bereft of matches and kerosene."

Sparrow gave a flippant wave the likes of which the nobles of Fairfax used regularly, striding past the smirking pirate into the darkness beyond the ring of torch light.

Only after Sparrow was a dark shape did Reaver cast a wary glance at the wall behind him, unease snaking its way into the pit of his stomach for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Not, of course, that he'd ever admit that coming to the Avo-forsaken hell-hole he now stood in was a terrible idea.

"Oy pirate, I thought you were keen on exploring this pit?" Sparrow's hissed words carried eerily, his eyes even at a distance reflecting the torch light like a bat, or a balverine. Or the minions of the shadow judges, but he didn't really want to think of them at that particular moment.

_On they walked, through living darkness encased in ancient stone. Beings of the abyss stirring from their slumber by the passage of Heroes, dark magic's stirring by mechanics not altered by their hands. The tomb, the chapel, ageless, endless, hungry, and endlessly patient._

"I feel like we've been wandering for ages, and I'm pretty sure this place doesn't end. Ever. Just goes on and on and on and on and-"

Reaver swatted Sparrow lightly, stopping the word vomit before it got started. "Don't be ridicules; nothing is _endless_, least of all buildings. It would be impossible to find enough workers to build something of the sort."

"Tried before, I assume? Or is that why you still haven't gotten a new manor? Can't find anyone who'll build your crazy ideas into reality? Or are you trying to make the entire thing out of gold, like that pistol you commissioned half of Albion's blacksmiths to make? You know, the one that was impossible to create so you shot six people and burned down the tavern in Westcliff?"

"Nothing of the sort, actually. It's merely common sense. You would need an endless supply of-oh what is it now?"

Sparrow continued to squint into the darkness just outside of their little light ring. "Do you see that?" He pointed toward a blob in the darkness with the arm he'd thrown in front of the pirate.

"Oh yes, more darkness. Couldn't miss it."

Shaking his head, Sparrow slunk forward, torch held in front of him free hand on the pistol at his hip. Reaver, disliking immensely the feeling that washed over him at the loss of the light ring, stalked forward as well.

It came into relief swiftly, all shining brass and gleaming leather, the distinct lack of dust adding an even more sinister feel to the already foreboding piece of machinery.

"What is that _heap _supposed to be? Good lord and I thought the statuary of Albion was tacky."

"I think it's s'posed to be a bird of some kind…look, wings, beak…" Sparrow pointed at said likenesses as he spoke, free hand now hovering inches away from it. "Have you heard about that place s'posed to be opening up? The one on the island with the clockwork machines? This sorta makes me think of that. Well, of the descriptions I've heard, anyway…." He set his hand lightly against the brass plating.

"Bloody hell Sparrow, don't touch the thing, you've no idea where it's been. Especially considering the things you just likened it to."

Sparrow traced the leather rigging, stopping short at the bits that disappeared under the metal. "So you've heard about it then?"

"Bits and pieces. Sounds rather like a bad story, all fairytales and fluff, till the sprites grow fangs and the princess turns out to be a balverine."

"Sounds like something Theresa would have told me before bed. You sure you didn't grow up with th' ol' croon?"

Reaver sighed. "For the last time, I've never met her before the whole _Lucien_ incident." It was something the gypsy constantly asked after, convinced it to be truth that they had at the very least grown up in a similar time frame.

"You sure? 300 odd years is a long time y'know, I doubt you could remember _everything _that happened. And she _did_ say she'd seen Oakvale before it became Wraithmarsh. She never denied it either, my claim of fact that she's at least as old as you."

"You're starting to sound as senile as her. She probably read it in a book and now in her advanced years is simply mistaking fiction for reality. You know how old people get. You did live with one for most of your life. Which I can't imagine was good for you. I do wonder though, was she always an ancient old bat, or was she simply always a nutter?"

Sparrow ignored him, pulling away from the odd statue and staring at his fingers as he rubbed them together. "I've got a better question: who's been out here taking care of these?" He held up his hand. "Polish."

He looked from the preened statue, to the fresh markings on the walls, to the darkness around them and everything in between. "I don't know, but whoever they are better have a marvelous reason as to why they're trespassing in _my _foreboding and supposedly murderous desert temple."

"So it's yours now is it?"

Reaver smirked, pulling his trusty dragonstomper from its holster. "Oh yes. After all, I came all the way out to this Avo-forsaken pit, even brought my very own hero ambassador as it were, and I'll not be leaving until I'm certain everyone knows who it's proper owner is."

"Gee, I feel the love. Thanks for using me as a negotiation device, really shows you care."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't let you anywhere near this, my latest….investment. Someone as famous as you? They'll plaster both our faces in the paper, side by side once we come back with this. Whatever it turns out to be."

Sparrow rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Bloody wanking hell Reaver, always with the fame and fortune. You'd think someone with your _condition_ would want to attract _less _attention."

Reaver chuckled. "You may be right. However I feel as though I can't, in good conscious, take the advice of a man who _polishes his face_." At Sparrow's quizzical expression, the pirate pointed to his forehead, stifling laughter as the gypsy's hand jumped to his own forehead, remembering then the polish he'd gotten off the statue.

"In the name of Skorm's pink jimjams what next..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: with the fervor of sacrific**

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><p>"Hundred gold says they're down there."<p>

Reaver rolled his eyes. "Oh, you mean down the suspiciously lit corridor? The only corridor, in fact, containing any light at all?"

Sparrow shrugged. "Could be a trap. Or a false lead. Or both. They could actually be off down the blackest pit this side of the desert, lurin' us inta here with fancy candles and incense."

"Let me guess, your incubation monsters are also involved?"

"Quite possibly. They'll do business with anyone who'll give 'em free lolli's and something warm and sticky to pop their kids inta."

"As disgusting as that sounds, I can't help but feel as though you're talking about the louts that used to do my cleaning…"

"I thought you had maids for that."

"The other kind of cleaning, Sparrow dear."

"There's more than one kind? How many ways can you polish a book stand?"

Reaver sighed, taking the now useless torch from Sparrow and snuffing it in a convenient pile of sand. At least the desert came in handy for something. "If I have to explain it, you're too civilized to be wandering about a possessed shrine with a known nary-do-gooder. Or too dull…"

"Wha-oh, uh yes! Right! I completely understand what you were talking about now. Yep! Really very truly do."

The pirate snorted. "And now you're a liar? My my little Sparrow, what _is _becoming of you? You're beginning to beg the part of an unseasoned school boy."

"Tish-tosh, ain't nothin' of the sort. So, spooky tunnel with unexplained candles placed at pointed intervals?"

"Changing the subject, I do think I'm righ-"

"Right, yon and forward into the somewhat well lit hallway it is!" Sparrow sprung briskly forward, ending the debate.

Reaver kept just behind him, pistol at the ready should one of Sparrow's monsters jump out at them. There was no point in trying to move through the shadows, for the candles threw them into fierce motion, waxing and waning as they danced in a wind that seemed to touch only the light, the flames still in the stagnant air. It turned their likenesses into fearsome beasts, roiling, raging against invisible cages beyond the scope of reality. It was rather hypnotic.

"Reaver, look!" Sparrow moved his arms up and down, hunching and ducking as he did. "It looks like one of those creatures from the "ser-kus" we went to the other day."

The pirate obediently observed the hero's shadow, quite surprised to find he wasn't wrong. "It does rather resemble a bear, if a bit of a blurry one."

"If we catch a monster down here, we should sell it to those people. I bet they'd let us come see the show whenever we wanted if we gave them something good."

"Why don't we just give them you? Then you can wander about the country-side and do inane things to entertain those paying to laugh at you."

Sparrow paused, from the looks of it seriously considering the thought. "You know, that might not be so bad….Maybe I should join the 'ser-kus' when we get done trudging through this bollocks place."

"I give it two weeks before you lose your mind and find yourself trapped beneath the floorboards of one of their caravans."

"Nobody leaves…"

They both stared off into space as though allowing the fake creepy atmosphere they'd contrived to sink into a nonexistent audience.

And then they burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Which probably wasn't the best idea, considering there were potential enemies at the other end of the tunnel waiting to jump them with the Auroran equivalent of pitchforks.

Reaver wiped away a contrived tear from his eye. "Oh but I do crack me up."

With a roll of the eyes, Sparrow grabbed a fistful of Reaver's shirt sleeve, tugging him into motion. "Come on, Mr. Hilarity. Let's go find the prize at the end of this Avo-forsaken tunnel, fill it full of holes till it spells yer name, then get back to non-murderous civilization."

_Twisting and turning and suffocating, following the soft pop of wax and flicker of flame down into the bowels of the desert temple. Darkness played gaily with their minds, their perceptions, stretching and distorting the path until neither was sure how long they truly had been walking. Incense and decay coated their mouths and tickled their nostrils, a heady atmosphere tinged with spice and flora numbing, dulling their senses, weighing on limbs and lids. At last the end came within site, and with it arose the steady thrum of chanting and drums, a woman's whimper and a child's cry._

Wordlessly they slunk toward the pillars lining the alcove below, ignoring the grand stairs in favor of something more secluded. They could no longer deny they were not alone, and by the looks of it their company was anything but pleasant. Ten figures cloaked in black and robed in white knelt in a semi-circle before a raised platform, stage or alter or both, split by a man in robes of brilliant violet and dusky indigo. Lining the walls a smattering of men in Auroran garb, hair wild and faces painted, drumming as one a beat easily mistaken as the pulse of some large, fey beast.

Sparrow nudged Reaver lightly, drawing the pirate's attention away from the woman and child bound and clothed in rags center stage. A tilt of his head and the pirate saw them, moving shadows carrying glinting steel. For a moment he thought them the shades of the Shadow Court, but then his mind caught up with his eyes and he realized them men just as surely as the ones below bathed in light.

He wasn't sure if he should be gratefully or displeased. Men were easily dispatched, but shades held no sway of him, Albion or not.

"_Brothers, I welcome you." _The words were spoken in the native Auroran tongue, which of the two of them only Reaver understood. The one speaking the man dressed as regality, the expensive trinkets wound into plaited hair, adorning slim fingers and dangling from an elegant neck sparkling in the light of the innumerous candles as he stood.

A murmur of greeting arose from the others, and Reaver had to wave Sparrow's inquisitive glance off. Translating would require speaking, and speaking was bound to draw as of yet unwanted attentions.

"_Tonight is the first night of the beginning, of the end, of the joy and darkness and freedom we so crave. Tonight we offer unto They the first of the blood, the bone, the life forever sought after but ultimately unattainable; tonight we begin the Courtship of He, our God, our Lord and Master."_

A shiver ran through the assembled men, their leader turning a slow circle to look warmly upon his followers. As he'd spoken he'd moved to stand behind his captives, passing a hand lightly over their heads as though to comfort them.

"_Tonight we take the first step bridging the gap between this world and The Void. Be strong, my brothers, for soon our dream will be made real, and our God will walk amongst us." _

Sparrow grabbed at Reaver's arm as the leader pulled an ornate dagger from beneath his cloak, grabbing a fistful of the woman's hair with his other hand. As one they reached for their pistols, and as one they stilled, vice grips on their shoulders and the cool steel of metal at their throats.

The man looked directly at them, suddenly bright gaze piercing through their shadowed hiding place. A grin slid onto his face, caressing the woman's cheek with the blade. _"Have no hopes, my child. Those would be rescuers are lost to you, now as very much mine as you and your kin are."_

The Heroes followed the blades upward, no choice but to let wandering hands relieve them of their weapons. Sparrow shot Reaver a very nasty 'I told you so' look, the pirate frowning in displeasure.

A swift flash of silver and crimson spewed forth, spattering the men closest and covering everything between its exit point and its final resting place in a thick coat of swiftly darkening finality that took the color from its owner's cheeks and the light from her eyes.

"_It is begun." _


End file.
